I'm not inclined to resign to maturity

This is normally the kind of thing I would post on Sunday best, but several things are happening this weekend that make it unlikely that I’ll get around to that post.

Thing one is, of course, the delivery and installation of my new appliances!

Thing two is … I’m meeting the boyfriend’s parents. That’s right – I have made it seven and a half months (but who’s counting) with no more interaction than a distant wave from the background of a video call, and tonight I shall be in their presence. At least I think it will happen tonight – the boyfriend isn’t much of a planner. I made brownies and cupcakes in preparation for the meeting, which is again one of those things that would piss me off if another girl did it. “What are you trying to demonstrate?” I would angrily ask. “Are you trying to show them that you’ll be a good homemaker for their son? Is that YOUR responsibility? Why not show them your paycheck? Or your engineering degree?” However, I think the boyfriend may have mentioned the degree to them at some point, and the paycheck thing would just be weird. I like to bake. Free pass for me.

Anyway. There is a blog called Studies in Crap in the Village Voice. As far as I can tell, the author finds old crappy awesomeness and writes about it. Most recently, he found this book:

There is so much to say without even opening it up. Why, oh why, is an ‘all meat weiner’ company sponsoring a book of baby photos? Weiners and babies, as pointed out in the original blog, don’t exactly scream ‘advertising synergy’. Why is a weiner company called Lovers Lane? Why do they feel it’s necessary to say ‘all meat’? What are the alternatives?

WHY is there a caption next to the baby that says ‘sumpin’s burnin!’?

Turns out the caption thing has an answer.. sort of. There is a caption next to the baby to let you know that as you move through the book, you can expect to see all sorts of hilarious grown up type captions. For example:

Does it look like he's pretending to hold a cigar? I imagine he sounds something like Humphrey Bogart.

He’s drooling. Either cause the woman he’s thinking about is just THAT terrific, or because he knows he’s getting franks for dinner. Either way, he’s growing up so fast (sniff, sniff).

Continuing the theme:

Beret. (I feel no need to elaborate.)

Baby, you have clearly had too much to drink. Maybe if your parents weren’t spending their money getting you all boozy they’d have enough to buy food other than skinless franks!